Storm of Arranon

by R. E. Sheahan

Warmth from a tiny spark eased the tightness in her chest. A fiery glow spread, radiating to the tips of her fingers. Blue static whirled around them in this edgy embrace.

  I can’t… can I?

  “Nice touch,” the man whispered. There was humor in the tone.

  His words brought her back and the wispy current faded and disappeared, drawn inward.

  The pitch of his melodic voice changed, no longer light. “Newell’s not going to give you any more time, Faylen. He’s tired of waiting and wants results. He wants Erynn to give him what he needs—Arranon. Newell’s coming for her. Now.”

  Faylen’s lips left hers and brushed across her forehead. He spoke toward the shadows. “Then we go now. Let everyone know.” His breathing was ragged.

  The man slid back into darker shadows, gone like a breeze slipping through the night.

  Faylen drew away, still holding Erynn. His eyes were a dark sea where hope sailed, never finding a safe harbor. “Would you make me a promise?”

  What does he want? Will I be able to keep this promise?

  She allowed her heart to answer, not her spinning mind. “Yes.”

  “If something happens to me—if I don’t live through this—take me to Arranon. Bury me there, under a tree with red and gold leaves.” He smiled. “You know what I mean.”

  “Stop it.” Erynn put her hands on either side of his face. “You’re not going to die. We’ll get out of this, all of us.”

  “You believe that, don’t you?” He tipped his head and ran his fingers along the line of her chin.

  She dropped her hands to his chest and lowered her head.

  Jaer.

  “I have to. There’s nothing else for me.”

  Chapter 50

  A TREMOR RAN THROUGH THE deck. Erynn felt the shudder and heard the constant low thrum of the ship change to a faster tempo, the pitch increasing. “What’s happening?” She stepped back out of Faylen’s arms. A low rumble grew and then faded. “Was that an explosion?” She spun, searching the bay. Her eyes took in the sight, but her mind resisted, refusing to accept what she saw.

  Staser fire shrieked and white arcs flashed across the open space. People ran, their boots thudding over the metal plates of the floor. They fell, skidded over the smooth deck, and didn’t move again.

  “The mutiny’s begun. Isn’t this what you wanted?” He took her hand and hurried from the docking bay back into dim narrow corridors. “The Andor is under attack, being destroyed.”

  Alarms sounded, blaring and sharp. “Wait, where are we going?” she shouted as they ran. Her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped. She couldn’t tell which emotion reigned in her—fear or elation. She had done the impossible.

  The people on Arranon and Korin can fight for their freedom now. Whether I make it out of this alive or not, they have a chance. Understanding this is enough.

  “We need to get to the medical unit. They’ll need help evacuating the children!” he yelled, his jaw tense.

  Erynn let her awareness flow out and rush ahead of them. “The passage is clear,” she called to him. “But we need to hurry. Security is coming.” Another explosion shook the ship, ringing in her ears. Erynn bounced off the bulkhead and stumbled. Faylen steadied her and stepped up the pace.

  A monotone, mechanical voice called over the high siren, “All damage-control personnel report to sector ten, armory. Security units twelve and fourteen proceed to sector two, engine room. Secure your locations. Units one through ten, continue to red alert stations. Repeat, continue to red alert stations.”

  “You started with the armory. Good thinking.” She glanced up at him as they ran. “They think we’ll try to take the engine room.”

  “Communications will be next and then life support. After that, we have sixty timnents before the Andor will no longer be habitable.” Faylen smiled. “Newell believes we’re trying to take over, not destroy the Andor.”

  “A good plan, Faylen. Thank—”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to live through this.”

  Faylen pulled Erynn up steep stairs two at a time, rising three levels. The passageways were empty. They met no one in their dash, yet. Another detonation shot through the structure. The scream of twisting metal accompanied a violent shaking.

  Erynn held her breath until the deck firmed under her feet. “That was close,” she said in a rush of exhaled air.

  “Yes. The explosive devices are well placed.” The interior of the ship rocked. Choking, bitter smoke thickened in the always-present haze. “And well timed.” The corridor went black. Low red emergency lights blinked on, casting an eerie, dim glow.

  “All damage-control personnel report to sector seven, communications. All damage-control personnel report to sector one, life support.”

  Erynn coughed. “Like to see how they’ll manage that.” She coughed again.

  “The computer doesn’t know what to do first. All the affected sectors are vital. We have them on the run.” Faylen turned right and then left. They climbed down one level and went right again. The air cleared of smoke.

  “How do you know your way around?”

  “How does Jaer know his way through the forest of Glaskra? How did you know your way around the base on Korin? This is—was—my home. I am as familiar with it as you and Jaer are with yours.”

  Erynn hesitated for a heartbeat. “How do you know Jaer’s name?”

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  “Engineering crews to sectors ten, seven, and one. Engineering crews to sectors ten, seven, and one.” No longer a computer generated voice, fear shaded the orders ringing out through the ship.

  Good. I hope Newell is enjoying my assistance.

  Pinpoints of orange and red swarmed toward her from the forward corridor. “Stop.” Erynn pulled back on Faylen’s hand, trying to slow his dash. “Security is ahead of us, coming this way, and fast.”

  Faylen searched the area. “Here.” They ducked into the deep shadows of an alcove before a hatch. He covered her body with his, holding her close.

  She sensed his need to protect her, but there was more in his response. His embrace was an opportunity for that physical contact he’d longed for. She held him in return, giving him this small offering.

  Men rushed by, weapons drawn, their boots ringing on the metal deck. The sound echoed off the bulkhead under the screaming alarm.

  Erynn turned her head toward the hatch she and Faylen stood in front of. “Where are we?” She didn’t know why she asked. She knew the answer. This was Admiral Newell’s quarters, and he was in there. She sensed his fear. No, more than fear—abject terror.

  “That’s Newell’s—”

  “I know. How do I get in?” She pulled away from him, running her hands over the area next to the hatch.

  “Erynn, there isn’t time.”

  “Where’s the control panel?” Her voice rose. Anger sparked in her. Smoldering flames of grief over her dad’s murder added heat to her building rage. All that had happened ran like a vid through her mind. She’d lost her dad, her home, everything she’d worked for, and very soon, possibly her life. This man routinely ordered the murder of innocent people. The inhabitants of this ship lived in constant fear and hopelessness. Newell didn’t care.

  “I want him to know,” Erynn seethed. Purple static arced against the metal. Electric tendrils of deep violet raced around her in a whirlwind of power. “I want him to know that his life, his ship, his command, everything he does care about is gone because of me.” She put her hands on the hatch, fingers outstretched, palms pressed against the cool surface. The door hissed and buckled, screeching in protest, and opened. “This won’t take long.”

  Newell stood in the center of the small space, fingers white-knuckled from gripping the staser trained on her. His hand shook. His chest rose and fell in quick succession. A small pack lay open on his bunk, items of apparent value stuffed in carelessly.

  Erynn stepped inside and glanced at the bed. “You’re leaving?” She sh
ook her head. “I don’t think so.” She smiled and raised her hand. Purple tendrils arced and shot forward. Time slowed. She walked to Newell, took the staser from his hand, and tucked the weapon into her waistband. She waited.

  Newell jerked and took a step back, his mouth dropping open. “You.” His finger squeezed the trigger of the staser no longer in his hand.

  “Me.” Erynn moved forward as Newell took another step back. He was against the bunk and could retreat no farther. She glared into his gray eyes. Fear lived there. Terror permeated his entire being. “You understand now.” She took a step closer so he could feel the power discharging around her.

  Newell winced, trying to twist away from the pain that radiated from the burning purple currents snapping and popping off her.

  “We control the docking bay and all the ships. You’re going nowhere. Enjoy what’s left of your miserable life.” She turned away and slipped out the ruined hatch before he could respond.

  Faylen frowned. “How did you take his weapon?” He glanced back to Newell standing against his bunk, pale, sweating, and shaking.

  Newell repeated his attempts to contact security on his com-link. He got no answer to his call for help. They wouldn’t be coming.

  “There’s even more to you than I realized, Erynn.” Faylen took her hand and led her down the corridor at a run.

  Time passed in a strange mix of slow motion and fast-forward. Faylen rounded a corner into a wider passage. Double doors at the end glided open. Faylen and Erynn stopped just inside them. She heard the children, some crying, some screaming, before she saw them. The bloody wash of the red emergency lights secured to the bulkheads were spaced farther apart here. The gap left wide swaths of the long corridor in a murky gloom, frightening for a child. Open doors to small rooms running off the hall were black holes. No emergency lighting eased the dark inside. She couldn’t see into the dark holds, but she was sure they were sleeping quarters.

  “Boxes. A warehouse for children.” Erynn’s teeth ground under tight jaw muscles. “Let’s get them out of here.”

  Faylen stepped up to a man and two women. “Are you ready?”

  The man’s voice carried to Erynn out of the gloom. “Yes. We’ve been waiting for you.” He glanced back. A long line of huddled children and women disappeared into the shadows. “We weren’t sure which way to the bay would be safe.”

  Faylen nodded. “We have to hurry. There isn’t much time. Stay together. It’s vital the children stay with us.”

  “The children understand.”

  From some of the tiny cubicles around her, faces formed out of the dark. “What about them?” Erynn spun in a tight circle. “Why aren’t they coming?”

  “There are older children that refuse to come with us.” The man pushed by Erynn to follow Faylen.

  “Erynn, come on,” Faylen called from the outer corridor.

  “No. We have to make them understand.” She stumbled toward a small group packed into one of the tiny rooms. “You must come with us.” Erynn reached out. The door shut, pushed by garish scarlet hands illuminated by the sick, red light.

  Faylen returned and grabbed her around the waist. “Will you sacrifice those that want to live for a few already gone?” His voice was thick and broken. “Don’t let this will bring all of us down, Erynn. We have to go. Now.”

  Erynn watched as the women and children shuffled past. Faylen was right. She nodded. “I know, but that doesn’t make leaving them here to die any easier.”

  “We’ve done what we can,” Faylen whispered. He took a tight grip on her hand. “Stay with me. I’ll get you out of here and home, to Jaer.”

  She opened her awareness and sensed the anger, the hatred that radiated from many young minds behind the closed hatches. Their emotions collided with the fear coming from the group shambling out the door. There was another sensation breaking through their fright—hope. She understood their hope for a better life. She must bury her new fury for those lost children—choke back the sorrow for young lives wasted. If they didn’t go now, the children who did want a chance for life would never feel the sun on their faces, or experience the beauty of a snowy day. Nor would they ever know the joy and sorrows, the unconditional acceptance of love given and received.

  “Erynn, they’re waiting.” Faylen gestured to the children.

  “Let’s go.” Erynn’s voice cracked. She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “Let’s go,” she said again in a low whisper.

  They ran to the front and hurried down the wide corridor, turning left into the narrower one. Faylen started to turn right after passing several intersections.

  “No!” Erynn called. “We won’t get through that way. Security has the passage held.” Her gaze locked onto Faylen’s eyes. “They know.”

  “Okay.” He glanced forward and then back. “Listen carefully. At the next set of stairs, go up two levels. Turn right at the fourth intersection, then left at the next. Keep going straight. You’ll come to a dead end. Take the right passage. You’ll run into the docking bay.”

  Erynn reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him close. “Where are you going?” Dread built in her heart. They had come this far together. “Don’t leave me… us now.”

  Faylen smiled and pried her hands off his uniform. “Security will come searching when we don’t show.” He tossed his head and glanced down the corridor. “I’ll take care of them and meet up with you in the bay. Go, Erynn.” He turned, quickly winding his way back through the children before she could protest. His shadowy form turned right at the next intersection.

  Erynn watched him disappear and then stared at the children. “Come on. We need to keep moving.” She spun and kept her attention on the path forward. “The stairs should be just up ahead.” A blast of hot, pungent air swirled forward, hitting her in the face. The dark before her flickered with an orange glow.

  Fire.

  The way ahead was not passable. She twisted back to the children. “Where now?” she asked the man Faylen had spoken with from the medical unit.

  “We have to go up.” Panic tinged his voice. “Up is the only way to get to the bay.”

  “Calm down.” Erynn put her hand over his arm. Blue tendrils swirled and the air sweetened. “There has to be another set of stairs that will take us up.” Her voice was firm and even.

  The man’s breathing steadied, and he frowned with concentration. He stared at the deck. “There are seven direct routes to the bay.” He ticked them off on his fingers, mumbling. “We are cut off from all of them.” His brow smoothed. “Except one.”

  “Where?” Erynn squeezed his arm.

  “The medical unit.” His gaze slowly tracked to Erynn’s eyes. “There’s a lift that goes to the docking bay. It’s there to transport the injured from the ships.”

  “Why didn’t we use that one to begin with?”

  “The process would have been too slow. The lift will only hold ten, maybe fifteen of the smaller children at a time.”

  “Go,” Erynn commanded, and pushed him. “I’ll stay back here. Send two adults with each group. Load as many as you can in the lift, any way possible.” He disappeared into the murky shadows. “As each ship fills, have them take off.” She yelled the last and hoped he’d heard her. Heat pulsed at her back and she turned. Flames danced forward around the angle of the corridor. “Get moving, get moving,” she whispered under her breath. The line before her shifted, edged forward, and flowed in reverse along the passageway. The choking smoke dissipated, the hot air replaced with cool.

  Erynn rushed out of the wide corridor and into the medical unit. The lift was located at the far end of the long hall. Hundreds of children stood before her, waiting their turn to ascend to the bay and freedom. She couldn’t help glancing at the closed doors to the tiny cubicles lining either side. This was her opportunity to try to talk the older children into changing their minds. She knocked on doors and spoke against the metal hatches. “Would you just come out and talk to me? Tell me w
hat you’re thinking. I’ll listen to you I promise.”

  No movement, no sound came from the small rooms.

  She leaned her head on the cool, smooth surface of the hatch. “Give us the chance to show you how things could be better. There is so much beauty in people, in life. If you try this, if you come with me, I promise you’ll never regret your decision.” Her breath hitched in. “I’m willing to die for the chance to go back. If I make it to Korin, to Arranon, I’ll never again take a single moment of my life for granted.” Erynn went to each hatch she felt the children behind and repeated her impassioned plea.

  Erynn was met with a dead silence. She took a deep breath. Her lungs ached, but not from sorrow. The air had thickened, smelling stale, overused, and tainted. Her head swam, and she fought for control over her panic. “So close.” She smiled. “I almost made it.” The remaining women and children coughed and gasped, trying to draw in what was left of the breathable atmosphere.

  “Gaolador.” Storm. The words whirled around and through her.

  Erynn pulled in a leaden breath and gagged at the acrid taste. Her vision blurred. Her brain screamed for air. She remembered the touch of the wind against her cheeks. She could hear sighing in the treetops, and smell the clean, fresh scent of rain. Jaer’s beautiful face took shape in her mind. He would live. This was enough.

  Her hair fluttered over her eyes. An icy gust of wind rushed around her. If this was death, dying wasn’t so bad. Slowly her thoughts cleared, along with her vision and she inhaled the light, sweet air. The children glanced about wide-eyed, their coughing eased.

  “Shoukeet.” Hurry.

  This reprieve was temporary. Erynn understood the urgency. Time was running out for the Andor. Children crammed into the lift. Eight remained, along with two women and Erynn. One last load and they would all be in the bay. The lift’s gears ground, screeching to a halt in the hangar bay. The smell of hot metal and scorched wiring filled Erynn’s nostrils. They had definitely overloaded and overworked the device. She wondered if another ascent would have been possible.